


Warmest Wishes

by spacehopper



Series: The Accursed Knitter [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Episode Prompto, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Ardyn understands that Prompto's in a hard place after learning about his past. What better way to cheer him up than handmade knitwear and a glimpse into the intricacies of the Niflheim knitting community?





	Warmest Wishes

Prompto almost missed the gloves, a green and grey protrusion laying on a rock in the midst of endless snow. He winced as he picked them up to examine them, pompoms growing out of the backs like fungus. But they seemed warm, and he’d take anything right now.

As he pulled them on, something thin and sharp sliced his chapped skin. Sitting on the rock, he yanked off the left glove and fished out the folded paper stuffed inside. 

**Nilfheim Knitting Nightly Issue 376**

_**A Reply from Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim** _

_In response to my submission of a pattern for the Ascended Argyle, I received numerous comments which I would love to address. I have included a selection below:_

_“The pattern seems to be written in the ancient language of Solheim.”_

_“This is a Lucian plot to waste my time.”_

_“Was this created by some sort of madman? An infernal daemon?”_

_While I do always avoid besmirching the honor of my fellow knitters whenever it is within my power, in this particular situation I must question whether it is truly a flaw in my design, or a flaw in the ego of the failed knitters. I’ve always said self-reflection is the key to self-improvement! Perhaps these good commenters may find they too will benefit from this sage advice._

“Ardyn,” Prompto said through chattering teeth. Had he left this here? He clenched his hands around the gloves as the wind howled. Then he tugged them off, throwing them into the snow in disgust. He wouldn’t take anything from that bastard.

Bowing his head against the snow, he trudged forward. One step. Two. He closed his eyes and didn’t cry. Tears would only freeze.

He went back for the gloves. 

*

A hat made of gunmetal wool with red polka dots along the rim sat jauntily on top of a defunct MT. Prompto prodded it gingerly, just to make sure it was really dead, before tugging the hat off its helmet. After the gloves, it was surprisingly understated. As he settled it on his head, he noticed something odd itching against the back of his neck. He reached for it, and sure enough, it was another piece of paper. 

**Nilfheim Knitting Nightly Issue 451**

_**Is Yarnbombing Ruining Our Empire?** _

_Today we learned of a crime which tarnishes the good name of knitters throughout the Empire. A suspected Lucian agent has yarnbombed the throne of our beloved Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt with Black Skull Super Saver. Chancellor Izunia, who has long shown sympathy for the knitting community, provided a personal comment._

_“The knitters of Niflheim would never stoop so low as to commit such a heinous act,” he said today on a personal phone call with yours truly. “I have long suspected that yarnbombing, a most foul practice, was imported by Lucian terrorists to undermine the strictures of our society. We are treating this crime with the utmost seriousness and will show no mercy to the culprits.”_

_Worst of all, this agent also attempted to frame the Chancellor by including his signature pattern in the travesty, an unnamed source at Zegnautus Keep confirms. Truly we live in troubled times._

Prompto snorted. Like a Lucian agent would bother yarnbombing the throne. They had better things to do, real acts of so-called terrorism to commit. Ones that’d make a difference for Lucis in the war. 

Like stealing a baby, an experiment from a lab. He took a shaky breath, and tugged the hat lower. On the glass window to his left, he caught the faint ghost of his reflection. 

The red dots looked like eyes.

Prompto put a hand on the MT to steady himself, and watched it collapse into dust.

*

The socks he found rolled up and stashed in the slot of an Ebony machine. He examined them with a feeling of dread. Line upon line of mismatched yarn assaulted his eyes in no real order, like the knitter had just used whatever bits and pieces were handy. As he unballed them, a scrap of paper fell out. 

**Nilfheim Knitting Nightly Issue 515**

_**Quality in Breeding** _

_Putting aside the question of whether to use natural or synthetic fibers, as the answer is obvious to any erudite individual, I wish instead to turn to the matter of the breeding of sheep. While many may find this topic somewhat crass, breeding is an essential component in quality. If the stock isn’t good, then it will never produce a worthy product._

_Thus I wish to reach out to the few sheep farmers producing truly fine wool, and propose a government sponsored cloning program. While in the past we would have been forced to lose the finest of the creatures to the whims of time and genetics, now we can preserve them for all eternity, and add other quality stock as it is discovered. I hope our faithful readers will join me on the below proposal I have drawn up to submit to the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Fine Arts._

It wasn’t signed by Ardyn, but Prompto knew he’d written it. Breeding programs. Quality stock. Fodder to be used as needed, then discarded and thrown aside. He stared down at his covered wrist, then at the socks, constructed from the cast-offs of a dozen other projects. 

He put them on. They’d still be useful nonetheless.

*

“I have another gift for you, dear boy.”

Prompto spun around, his gun already drawn and trained on Ardyn, who now stood before him, doffing his hat in a sweeping bow. 

“Quit playing games with me,” he said through gritted teeth. This facility, everything since he’d fallen from the train, it’d been one horrible revelation after another. And it’d all come from Ardyn, playing with him like a cat toys with a mouse.

“You should really work on your manners,” Ardyn said with a shake of his head, tossing a package to Prompto, who caught it on instinct. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared around a corner. 

Prompto chased after him, his arm falling limply to his side when he saw the hall was empty. That slippery bastard had done it again. He leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Might as well see what was inside. 

Tearing quickly through the paper, he pulled out a revolting Argyle sweater in eye blinding yellow and puke green. But the wool under his fingers was soft, high quality. And who the hell would see him here? MTs weren’t exactly the fashion police. Maybe he was playing into Ardyn’s plans. But at least he’d be a little warmer. 

As he stood and pulled off his jacket and put on the sweater, a piece of paper brushed against his face. He tugged it free, and a chill ran through him, despite the warmth of the wool. Instead of another page of the newsletter, it was a simple note written in a flowing hand.

_For those cold winter nights when you are utterly alone._


End file.
